


lovely day

by pevenesis



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:01:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26130802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pevenesis/pseuds/pevenesis
Summary: their mornings, through music
Kudos: 1





	lovely day

**Author's Note:**

> pt 4 contains non explicit lesbian sex

_Then I look at you_

_And the world's alright with me_

_Just one look at you_

_And I know it's gonna be_

_A lovely day_

1\. Absolute Beginners

If Soren had his way, his and Andy’s bedroom probably wouldn’t have much in it besides mattresses. If not for his pesky sister and her two boyfriends, they’d probably have won “largest bed anyone in their families had ever seen,” but they were a close second. Soren liked to sprawl out and leave Andy to find his own way to curl them together. Their mornings were routine by now, down to a pat. Andy awoke first, slipping out of their gray sheets to flip on the coffeemaker and turn on quiet music in the kitchen. He’d stand at the kitchen sink more often than not, staring out at the skyline and wondering how he’d gotten here. Every morning was the same, full of wonder and joy and absolute appreciation for this, for his life. A gorgeous penthouse with an incomparable view, a happy family, a thriving business and the most perfect boyfriend he could ever have imagined.

Andy examined the coffeemaker, watching the steady drip for a moment before pulling out the varying syrups and creamers and foam toppings Soren used to turn his coffee from a drink into a dessert each morning. Soren typically didn’t have any reason to even wake up until an hour after Andy had to leave for work, but spending the morning together had become something of a tradition for them and Andy wouldn’t give it up for the world. He made his way back to the bedroom as the coffeemaker finished up, taking a moment in the door to simply stare at the pale expanse of Soren’s back, tangled up in their bed. He smiled to himself, crawling over Soren and kissing across the back of his shoulders and grinning against the soft skin when Soren stirred.

“Mmm... G’mornin’.” Soren whispered, accent thick and sleepy as his eyes fluttered and he arched his back up against Andy’s chest. Andy’s smile widened and he ran his nose across the fine hair on the back of Soren’s neck, simply soaking up his warmth. Soren wriggled beneath him, eyes hardly open as he rolled onto his back and wrapped his arms around Andy’s neck. Andy laughed at Soren’s drawn up face, ducking his head down to nudge the tip of his nose against Soren’s, who went nearly crosseyed to watch. Soren was always so laguid in the morning, all soft words and slow movements, like watching molasses pouring from a jar, the smell filling the room with pure sticky sweetness. It was something Andy savored every day.

“I made coffee. It’s fresh. I haven’t ruined any trying to make your morning sundae yet.” Andy teased quietly. Soren’s eyes opened completely, green flashing in the shaded light. He smiled, just barely, pressing up to kiss Andy soft and slow. He flopped back down after a moment, eyes closed again.

“Aye, fine. Dressed first or after?” Soren asked, arms still hanging loose around Andy’s neck. Andy hummed quietly, lips brushing gently over Soren’s collarbone as he thought. There was a board meeting today and he’d do well to get to the office early.

“First, I think. I should leave early.” Soren nodded and shoved Andy away, rolling out of the bed and practically cackling when he glanced to see Andy’s dumbfounded face at being pushed away. He’d landed on his side, plaid flannel pants slung low on his hips and his arms still held out in front of him. Soren whirled around and flounced into their closet, flicking through a plethora of chromatic suits. He hovered over a dark green for a moment, shaking his head firmly and taking down a black, laying it out on the bed and squinting at it.

“All black?” Andy suggested, laying back with his arms behind his head as he watched Soren work. Soren scowled, shaking his head and retreating back into the closet. He picked out Andy’s clothes almost every day, which was both a blessing and a curse. While he looked quite impressive on the days he was dressed by Soren, the days he dressed himself stood out and his secretary had started to joke about Soren being out of town when Andy resorted back to a gray suit, white shirt, navy tie standard. Soren popped back out for a moment and returned with a light blue button up in one hand and two ties in the other. He laid the shirt over the suit and squinted at it, finally throwing the dark red brocade tie over his shoulder and laying out a dark blue tie decorated with bright flowers in red and pink.

“There,” He said, looking down proudly. “Fun and professional. It cannae be said that I’m no’ good at this.” He had his hands on his hips and Andy rolled his eyes, slinking out of bed to pat Soren’s hip. Soren was wearing the top half of Andy’s sleepwear, a flannel button up that matched Andy’s pajama bottoms. It hung halfway down his thighs, almost entirely obscuring the black boxer briefs he had on.

“Yes, yes, dear, you’re very talented. Now go make coffee.” He teased, hip checking Soren towards the door and laughing at Soren’s indignant noises as he stomped towards the kitchen.

It didn’t take Andy long to get dressed. Buttons and Windsor knots were second nature by now and Soren trusted him enough to let him pick out his own wristwatch and match his belt to his shoes. He’d left his suit jacket off, draping it over the back of a barstool on his way into the kitchen. Soren had laid out one cup of coffee already, no sugar and tiny bit of cream, and Andy sat down and took a grateful drink, watching his boyfriend sway his hips in time to the music still playing as he made his own coffee. It was one of Andy’s favorites, and listening to Soren muttering along as he pumped syrup into a mug and the sun rose felt like a dream. Soren turned, nearly dropping his mug when he noticed Andy staring.

“Christ, would ye make some noise next time?” He prodded, sliding into a chair and draping his legs over Andy’s lap. Andy laughed, nodding and rubbing a thumb across the arch of Soren’s foot and the delicate protrusion of his ankle bone.

“Yeah, next time.” He amended, taking another sip. Soren leaned back in his chair, still singing along softly with his eyes closed. “Don’t think I ever pegged you for a Bowie fan.” Andy confessed. Retrospectively, Soren couldn’t have ever been anything else, regardless of his age. Andy could almost see it, Soren up on a stage somewhere in his dramatic makeup, belting “Fame” and strutting about, curls bouncing. Soren raised an eyebrow without opening his eyes, the foot in Andy’s grasp tapping his thigh to the beat.

“I’m a gay crossdressing ballet dancer, and ye didna peg me for a Bowie fan?” He said skeptically. Andy laughed at the notion, shrugging in defeat as the last notes of “Sound and Vision” petered out. His smile widened slowly as the next song began, and he mimed playing the piano up Soren’s shin.

“This song always reminded me of you.” He admitted quietly, nodding his chin along with the music. Soren’s eyes opened slowly, his face soft at the realization. He smiled at Andy, standing up and taking Andy’s coffee mug, setting it on the table and straddling Andy’s lap, kissing him softly for a moment before pulling away and singing along softly. Andy sat back, staring at him reverently. The sun shone in the window and right into his eyes and Soren’s curls were a disaster, but the room smelled like overly sweet coffee and Soren was singing quietly and Andy knew that if he could, he’d choose to stay just like this forever. The song continued on and Soren pulled Andy to his feet, kissing both his cheeks and patting his chest.

“As much as I hate to ruin the moment, ye’d best be gettin’ off to work.” He said quietly, swaying them in time to the music. Andy nodded, ducking down to kiss Soren’s forehead.

“I know. Be here when I get home, Lady Stardust?” He teased softly. Soren laughed at the nickname, and nodded once, firmly.

“Course, Major Tom.” He taunted back, kissing Andy once more before pushing him towards the door so they could both start their days.

_As long as you're still smiling_

_There's nothing more I need_

_I absolutely love you_

_But we're absolute beginners_

_But if my love is your love_

_We're certain to succeed_

2\. I Second That Emotion

Fox woke up first. Camellia was notoriously at her worst in the mornings and it took a full breakfast and at least three cups of tea to rouse her, which Fox was happy to provide. He’d slide out of bed in near silence, careful to keep the blackout curtains shut and the right side of the bed. It was Friday, thank goodness, which meant a late start at the office for him and a half day off from the gallery for Camellia. It wasn’t likely she’d wake until he was on his way out anyway, but that was more than enough time to cook her breakfast and make a pot of tea, do the dishes, feed the cat, and a few other chores to give her a little less to do before leaving for work.

They’d moved out to the suburbs just a few months before, into a Victorian style home with a raised porch and a rounded tower and the very first thing Cammie had insisted they do was paint the exterior pastel blue with white trim. They were only a few doors down from the FiThree’s own bright yellow home, which was so very Fiona it was hard to imagine them living anywhere else. Cammie had some semblance of interior design skill, thankfully, and their home was cozy and comforting. There was space for Fox to have an office and Cammie to have a studio and they’d enlisted Jules and Ash’s help in setting up speakers around the house so they could listen to music together regardless of what room they were in.

Fox had most of the speakers off at the moment, just playing quiet music through the kitchen as he cooked, frying an egg and warming up some marble bread and a slice of toast as the water boiled. He was sure he made quite a sight, peering through lace curtains and shaking his hips to The Temptations with a pink apron over his white tee shirt. He flipped the egg expertly, sliding it onto the table and turning back to cut the tops off some strawberries for the bowl of berries.

“Are you making sure I don’t get scurvy?” Came a laughing voice from behind him. Fox turned around quickly, blinking at Camellia in surprise. She was leaning against the doorframe, watching him. Her hair was piled up in a thick bun and she wore a shirt he’d never seen before, but had Sorcha and Julian’s gym name printed across the front. His smile softened at the sight and he shrugged playfully.

“Och, somethin’ along those lines.” He teased back, setting everything up the kitchen table and pouring two cups of tea. Cammie pulled her chair closer to Fox’s when he sat down, leaning heavily against his side and breathing in the steam from her teacup before taking a sip. She hummed happily, drinking her tea quietly for a moment and focusing on the quiet music.

“Yer up early. Did I wake ye?” Fox asked, leaning his cheek against the top of her head, scrubbing his rough stubble against her bun. Camellia nodded and slung her legs over his left thigh to curl closer against his chest. Fox apologized softly, kissing her forehead as she reached for a piece of toast with jam.

“S’okay. Means we can eat together and listen to your old man music.” She said slowly, holding back a smile at Fox’s gruff, annoyed noise as they both squinted against the bright light. Their kitchen had windows that faced the street, and Cammie had spent weeks cultivating an ivy plant to grow up the window and across the curtain bar. They couldn’t close the curtains anymore, but even Sorcha had admitted the ivy was a cute touch and matched their light green cabinets perfectly.

“... It’s no’ old man music,” Fox said petulantly. “It’s soul.” He muttered. Cammie’s laughter shook her shoulders and she lowered her teacup to avoid spilling.

“This is what, Four Tops? The Contours? From the early 60’s? It’s old man music. You weren’t even alive in the 60’s!” She laughed, nudging him slightly. Fox had the most peculiar music collection. The walls of his office were plastered in bookcases holding books, cassette tapes, DVDs, vinyl records, audiobooks, CDs, and VHS tapes. Some were music, some were talks on historical subjects, some were movies he enjoyed, some were blank. He had a habit of hoarding media and he’d developed quite the library. He and Camellia had sat down when they’d moved in and tried to sort through it all, create designated areas for things, but after trying to figure out how to sort Scandinavian folk metal and 60’s soul vinyls side by side went awry, they’d given up and left Fox’s media to its chaos.

Fox pouted, taking a sip of his tea to try to hide it. Cammie picked up a few raspberries, sticking them onto her fingertips and sucking them off, offering her ring finger to Fox. He rolled his eyes fondly but ate the berry, giving her a bite of his egg toast in return. The Contours song echoing through the kitchen faded out and Fox hummed along to the ending notes, eyes closed as he tapped the beat against Camellia’s shoulder. The next song began and a slow smile spread across his face as he nodded his head to the saxophone intro.

“I used to listen to this song and think about ye before we got together.” Fox said softly. He’d been so confused then, when she’d first shown an interest in him. He was old and owned too much weird stuff and had the oddest family, but she’d taken it all in stride. He’d convinced himself that if she just wanted one night, if she never wanted a serious relationship, he’d be fine, that a taste of honey was better than none at all. He’d been so prepared for her to go, flutter off with the wind and move onto someone else, someone her own age. He knew if she wanted him, he’d devote everything to her for as long as she wanted it. He just hadn’t been prepared for her to actually want it.

Camellia’s brow furrowed as she listened to the song. She’d known about Fox’s insecurities before they’d started dating, but they’d never discussed it much once it became clear they were ill warranted.

“You thought I was going to break your heart?” She questioned dubiously, turning to him. Fox shrugged noncommittally, pouring them both more tea. She rolled her eyes and slapped his chest with the back of her hand.

“You’re dumb.” She said simply, curling back against his side as he laughed quietly, brushing her hair back and kissing her forehead.

“Aye, I am.” He whispered, hauling her against his side and starting to sing along, his accent very nearly butchering the lyrics to the song. Cammie groaned good naturedly, looking up at him and watching him bob his head and sing. He was dumb sometimes, that was true, and he was a bit thick, but once he got his head around something, he was devoted and she knew he loved her.

“Okay, please stop. You’re awful. I mean, you’re a great singer, but you do not have the voice for Motown soul, I’m sorry.” She giggled as he started adding dance moves, shaking his shoulders and miming tipping a hat at her as he sang. His gaze was soft and he cupped her cheeks as the sound faded, ducking his head to kiss her, whispering the lyrics against her lips.

“I do, ye ken. I love ye verra much, wee lass.” He said softly, taking her hand and sticking more raspberries onto her fingertips and eating them off. She laughed again, running her free hand through his thick curls.

“I know, old man. I love you too.”

_Oh, but if you feel like lovin' me_

_If you got the notion_

_I second that emotion_

_So, if you feel like giving me a lifetime of devotion_

_I second that emotion_

3\. Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now

Ash was the latest riser of the entire family. He’d sleep all day and stay up all night if he could, if not for both his partners being insatiable morning people. Fiona rose and set with the sun, ready for the day at 7am and sleepy by 10pm. Jules ran himself into the ground, rising with Fiona and not sleeping until someone forced him down. Ash, if they’d let him, would come to bed at 5am and wake up at noon. But they made sure he went down at a somewhat respectable time and strove not to wake him up each morning. Not that they always succeeded.

The bedroom was still dark when Ash cracked an eye open, annoyance coursing through him at the sharp 10:32am on their bright orange clock. There wasn’t much room in the bedroom for furniture, since their custom bed took up the majority of the space. Julian was too large and Fiona too much a sprawler for a regular king to fit all three of them comfortably, but they’d found a man online who took sizes and sleeping styles into consideration and built bespoke beds for poly couples and they’d all agreed it was one of their better purchases.

Ash had been reluctant at first, not sure how well he’d fit in the bright yellow house that seemed like it was made for Fiona and Julian. After their nearly three years in the house, though, he couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Every possible surface was covered in plants and flowers, and nearly every wall was plastered in memories. Photos of the three of them, movie tickets, concert wristbands, labels peeled off beer cans, stickers, they hoarded every little thing and stuck them to the walls, their entire home becoming one massive scrapbook. It made Ash smile now, every morning and every night, even when they woke him up this early and he could feel the bed vibrating from the music playing just below.

Judging by the hangers and pile of sleepwear at the foot of the bed, Ash’s lovers were already dressed and ready for their day. This was aggravating in and of itself since it was a Saturday, and none of them had any reason at all to be out of bed before 1pm, at the least. Ash grumbled to himself and shoved off the blankets, rolling his eyes and pulling down his own shirt, a gray shirt he’d stolen from Theo that read “more issues than Vogue” across the front. He’d stolen mostly so he never had to see Theo wear it again, but it had become perfect for sleeping in the summer with shorts. He shoved the pile of clothing out of the way and swung open the door, idly brushing the tangling vines of a philodendron off his shoulder as he peeked down the stairs, trying to get a glance into the kitchen, where he could hear the unmistakable thrum of 80’s pop. Fiona was laughing and Jules was singing and Ash assumed from the slight sliding and slapping noises, they were dancing. He nearly toppled down the steep curving staircase, stopping just outside the kitchen and shaking his head at the sight within.

The first thing he noticed was the music. The blue speaker in the kitchen was blaring “Don’t Go Breakin’ My Heart” and Julian and Fiona seemed completely entranced in their dramatic duet. Fiona clutched the skirt of her flowy red dress, shaking the fabric around as she danced around Julian. Her feet were bare, which was her usual, and her curls were tied back in two braids that looked like they were one firm motion from popping free. Julian wore a floral button up with short sleeves and a pair of khaki shorts, sunflower patterned socks pulled up his calves. There were two bowls of porridge and shortbread cookies on the counter, going completely ignored in favor of proclaiming their love for one another, Elton John and Kiki Dee style.

Ash nearly facepalmed when Jules wrapped his arms around Fiona’s waist, pressing his chest against her back and swaying her around the kitchen as they sang. After a moment, he grabbed Fiona’s hand and spun her out and back in so they could continue their frankly cringey display. Somewhere across the city, Ash knew, Soren was twitching in discomfort at this sad attempt at dance. He hung his head in humiliation just watching them as the song faded out and a particularly recognizable song by the Proclaimers came on, making Fiona nearly squeal at the familiar accents. Julian finally spotted Ash over her shoulder, laughing at his dejected face.

“Did we wake you up?” He asked kindly, spinning Fiona around so they were both facing him, faces flushed with exertion and smiling widely. Ash nodded, arms crossed over his chest as he pouted slightly.

“Yeah. You guys are so dorky. Is this what you do every morning when I sleep late?” Ash asked, moving into the kitchen and sitting across the counter from them. Fiona tilted her head back just as Julian looked down at her, and they smiled at each other.

“Yeah, pretty much.” Julian admitted, shrugging and playing with Fiona’s skirt, flipping it around as they swayed. Ash made a face, swiping one of the bowls and taking a big bite. Fiona took Jules’ hands and kept dancing, spinning them in slow circles as they started singing to each other again, Ash watching on with thinly veiled amusement shining over his face. Something about this, knowing every morning his partners danced around the kitchen together, so silly and so in love, made his entire chest go warm with affection.

“Quite the Scottish breakfast today.” He mentioned, taking another bite of porridge. Fiona hummed quietly under her breath, spinning around and clutching Jules’ hand.

“I missed home. So Jules made shortbread and porridge and we’re listening to the music my ma used to play around the house.” She confirmed, wrapping her arms around Jules’ chest and leaning heavily against him. Ash nodded understandingly. He could forgive the 80’s pop, he supposed, for Maggie. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for Maggie, and he knew their entire family could say the same. He smiled, taking out his phone and shooting a quick video of the party in the kitchen, reminding himself to send it to her later, and check up. Another song ended and Jules and Fiona seemed to be communicating silently, faces sly as they turned back to Ash, who stumbled off his barstool and scrambled against the far wall, shaking his head.

“No. Absolutely not, go away. I am not dancing with you.” He proclaimed, trying to shove Julian away. Unfortunately for him, Jules was a good six inches taller and quite a bit stronger and it took almost no effort on his part to pin Ash’s arms to his chest and yank him back to Fiona, who curled her arms around both of their waists, successfully jamming Ash between them with no way to escape.

“Shut up, baby. You’re dancing with us to Starship and that is final. Stay upstairs next time if you don’t wanna participate in family activities.” Julian laughed when Ash hung his head, groaning loudly and trying his best to stay strong despite the insistent side to side tugging from the other two.

“You guys are so embarrassing.” He groaned as they both belted along to the song, eyes closed like they were having a spiritual moment, listening to Starship. Fiona laughed, laying her head against Ash’s chest as Julian loosened his arms. Ash reluctantly wrapped his arms around Fiona’s waist and swayed slowly, high school prom style, leaning back against Julian’s chest. He’d never admit it, but it was kind of nice. The song was overwhelmingly cheesy, but his lovers seemed to be having so much and it did remind him of Kildermorie Lodge, warm mornings with Maggie and Scottish coffee and a place he’d started considering his home, too. Fiona beamed, stretching up onto her tiptoes to kiss across Ash’s jaw, winding her arms around his neck.

“Uh huh, we’re so embarrassing. What if Cammie and Chloe could see ye now? Dancin’ ‘round the kitchen like yer in love?” She teased, pantomiming throwing up. Ash made an annoyed sound, kissing her softly.

“Gross. They will never know I’m in love. That’s nasty.” He replied, holding back a smile when he felt Julian’s rumbling laughter against his back. Jules hooked his chin over Ash’s shoulder.

“Hey, dorks. I don’t love you.” He whispered. Fiona stretched up again, cupping Jules’ cheeks and kissing him, just as gently as Ash had kissed her.

“Yeah, I don’t love ye too.” She whispered back, switching effortlessly back to yelling the song lyrics and making both her boyfriends wince and laugh at her volume. ‘This is it,’ Ash thought, feeling Jules’ laughter on his back and watching Fiona scream oldies pop. ‘This has to be love.’

_And we can build this thing together_

_Standing strong forever_

_Nothing's gonna stop us now_

_And if this world runs out of lovers_

_We'll still have each other_

_Nothing's gonna stop us_

_Nothing's gonna stop us now_

4\. Feeling Good

Chloe’s coworkers marvel at her energy each morning, marvel at her ability to tackle every day with such joy. She laughs, tells them it’s coffee and being an optimistic morning person. This is, of course, a lie.

Her days start much the same. Hers and Sorcha’s apartment is fairly minimalist. There’s a boxing dummy in the corner, and Chloe has a big gorgeous desk and there’s enough windows for natural light, but Sorcha’s never been one for stuff and they never really found the time to shop for decor. There’s a couch and a TV and an armchair and bookshelves with framed pictures of their family, but they’re lacking in decorative bowls and pillows and wall art and such things. When they buy a house, Chloe knows she’ll make it more homely, but they both know this apartment is temporary, transitionary.

They share an alarm. They’re both early risers, Chloe to go to the hospital and Sorcha to go to the gym or for a run or whatever sweatiness she chooses to get up to on any particular morning. Chloe takes quick showers in the morning, preferring to go to work fresh and clean and relaxing in the tub with Sorcha when she gets home, washing the day’s worth of sweat and tension off Sorcha’s skin.

Sorcha’s up early today. She’s already out of bed when Chloe sits up, the thin strap of her silky sleep shirt falling off one shoulder. Sorcha’s got thick over ear headphones on, hopping around her punching bag with fiery intensity in her face. Her sports bra and shorts do nothing to cover the thick bands of muscle and ink over her entire body and Chloe sits still for a moment, simply staring. She can almost hear Sorcha’s music, just the faint echo of the electronic she works out to. She must have had a nightmare or something similar, Chloe concludes, slipping out of bed with enough movement that Sorcha glances over, making no move to remove her headphones when Chloe passes behind her, trailing soft fingers across her back, just above the waistband on her shorts and pressing a kiss to the back of her shoulder, savoring the hint of sweat. Sorcha’s been up for awhile, she concludes as she slides into the bathroom and turns on the shower. She’s pent up from something, and Chloe knows what that means. Behind the sound of the water, she can hear the smacks of impact on the punching bag, and she smiles.

Chloe’s morning showers tend to be quicker. When she gets out, the apartment is silent and when she leaves the bathroom, it’s empty. There’s coffee in the pot on the counter, Peanut Sauce has taken over the warm spot in the bed that she left behind and after a cursory glance, the trashcan in the kitchen is empty and Sorcha’s keys to get into their building are gone. Chloe pours a pot of coffee and sits on the kitchen table, her soft grey bathrobe hanging open. Peanut meows at something and Chloe glances over, laughing when she spots him, paw extended towards the window where a pigeon is perched outside.

She hears footsteps in the hallway and a key in the door. Sorcha enters slowly, her hands empty. She’s thrown on her MMA hoodie, the one that says “SWEET PEA”across the back, hood up over her messy ponytail and headphones, unzipped and framing her sports bra and abs. Chloe nearly bites her lip at the sight, Sorcha’s skin still shining with sweat. Sorcha breezes right past her to the kitchen sink, washing her hands quickly. She turns slowly, green eyes dark as she stares at Chloe, pale skin on near full display despite her bathrobe.

Sorcha shrugs out of her jacket, leaving it in a dark heap on the kitchen floor as she paces towards Chloe, looking almost predatory. She takes hold of one of the dining chairs and drags it between Chloe’s legs, reaching up to take off her headphones. They’re silent, Chloe realizes, blinking in confusion as Sorcha lowers them over her ears. She taps one side and music starts, a slow electro dance song that makes Chloe want to smoke a joint and sway around the bedroom. She’s still watching Sorcha, who lowers herself into the kitchen chair and slides both hands up Chloe’s thighs, eyes dragging down her entire body. Sorcha hoists one of Chloe’s thighs over her shoulder and stares between her legs like she’s dying of hunger. Chloe reclines on the table, leaning against her elbows and minutely moving her hips in time to the music playing through the headphones. Sorcha tracks the movement, scooting the chair closer. Both her hands settle on Chloe’s hips and she ducks her head, just as Chloe throws hers back.

The first touch of Sorcha’s mouth feels like a rapture, like Chloe can feel her soul leaving her body, flowing between herself and Sorcha as if they’re one person. She wonders if Sorcha can hear the music, or if the way her tongue matches the beat is purely perfect coincidence. Sorcha’s eyes are closed when Chloe’s hand shoves under her bun, curling tight into black waves. She can’t hear herself moaning, she can’t hear the wet sounds she’s sure Sorcha’s making, but she sees when Sorcha’s eyes open, bright green and so full of want and lust, it makes her arch her back, pressing harder against Sorcha’s tongue. The music crescendos with the bow of Chloe’s back and she feels it in her stomach, the coiling hot tightness and the tension in her thighs, one pinned firm to the table by Sorcha’s hand and the other pressed against Sorcha’s ear. She feels it distinctly when Sorcha slides two fingers into her and curls upward, the curve of her back extending as a moan even she hears rips from her lungs and she falls apart, quivering around Sorcha’s fingers and tongue.

Sorcha sits back. Her cheeks, chin, and jaw are covered in slick and her eyes are hazy, but the corner of her mouth twitches up in an unmistakable grin. Chloe lays flat on her back on the kitchen table, chest heaving. The song has restarted and Chloe can feel it in her bones. She leans her head up at a touch of wetness on her thigh and sees Sorcha with a cloth, cleaning them both up before sliding a mug of coffee onto the table. Chloe sits up fully, pulling the headphones down to hang around her neck, and the music pours out. Sorcha’s staring like she wants to go again, but Chloe’s already short on time now as it is and if Sorcha had her way, she’d wring three or four more orgasms out of Chloe before she let her go. And Chloe knows better than to ask if Sorcha wants her to reciprocate. If she did, she’d already have Sorcha’s thighs around her head.

“I have a fight tonight.” Sorcha says simply. Chloe nods understandingly, resting her heels on Sorcha’s knee and sipping her coffee. Not a nightmare, then, just stress. Chloe won’t be able to attend, since she’s scheduled for a fourteen hour shift at the hospital, so she’ll send Camellia and Fiona in her place.

“Mmm. Be safe.” She said, leaving her mug on the table and moving back to the bedroom to pull on a pair of scrubs and track down her lab coat. Peanut’s on her heels, meowing insistently and following her back into the kitchen once she’s dressed. Sorcha’s wearing a tank top now, her headphones on the kitchen table still playing the same song, over and over again. Chloe leans against Sorcha’s back, kissing the nape of her neck.

“I’ll be here. When you get home from your fight.” She whispers. Sorcha nods, reaching back to lace their fingers together.

“I know.” She whispers back. It’s an ‘I love you’ in their own way. Sorcha’s poor with words and Chloe would never push her, but she knows. They both know. And that’s enough.

_It's a new dawn_

_It's a new day_

_It's a new life for me, yeah_

_And I'm feeling good_


End file.
